


Empty

by Lukesnotpunk



Series: Right Through Me [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, depressed victor, they get in a fight, victor just really doesn't want to be alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 15:43:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10744713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lukesnotpunk/pseuds/Lukesnotpunk
Summary: Before Yuuri, Victor was supposed to be on top of the world.He had it all: fans, medals, money, a cute dog, a beautiful apartment, and emptiness carving through his chest so deep it was a wonder no one could reach right through him.or, after Yuuri and Victor move to Saint Petersburg they get into a fight and Victor is afraid that Yuuri isn't happy.





	Empty

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so I was supposed to be writing a paper on Ophelia for my Shakespeare class, but this happened instead! I only read over it a few times, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes, though I think I caught most of them.
> 
> Dorogoy means darling in Russian (according to google translate lmao)
> 
> I hope you like it!!

Before Yuuri, Victor was supposed to be on top of the world.

He had it all: fans, medals, money, a cute dog, a beautiful apartment, and emptiness carving through his chest so deep it was a wonder no one could reach right through him.

When he was young, winning was everything. He fought hard to become the best, and once there was no one left to challenge him, he fought the ghost of his past self to break his own records again and again. Reaching the top of the podium was no longer a goal or an achievement; it was just another part of the competition, piled up with the plastered on smiles and the makeup and the costumes and the golden blades of his skates and Yakov muttering because he knew there was no more for him to improve on when he was already the best by a long shot.

After his fifth consecutive Grand Prix Final win, there was no more excitement thrumming in his veins. There were no more real smiles, just the ones he pulled on for the sponsors who gave him empty congratulations. He wasn’t surprising anyone anymore with his wins. It would be more of a surprise for him to lose, but that wasn’t an option. There was only winning. It was all he had left.

Then, there was Yuuri. His drunken antics surprised Victor, who was usually bored out of his mind at these banquets, and he couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful Japanese boy who was actively stealing his heart. Sure, he probably could’ve done without the grinding on his leg, but the idea of becoming Yuuri’s coach was enticing, and it sparked something in his chest he’d forgotten about. It was a shred of unfiltered emotion, untainted happiness. It was the kind of joy that didn’t have a second clause; there was no “but” or “however.” There was just something pouring into the hole in his chest, and maybe you could still reach your arm through and come out on the other side of him, but there would be some sort of resistance now.

When he went all the way to Japan on the whim of a drunken man asking him to abandon his career and become his coach, he knew it was a hasty decision. The video of Yuuri skating though, it told Victor that Yuuri understood. Finally,  _ someone _ understood what the program was really about. He could feel it in every fiber of Yuuri’s being, and even though some of the technical aspects were lost in Yuuri’s version of the program, the pure feeling behind it brought it to a place Victor had tried to hard to reach, but never could.

So he went to Japan, and he coached Yuuri until he was the skater that Victor saw hiding behind his anxiety and fear of failure. Somehow Yuuri understood him, and somehow he loved him. And now, with the two of them moving back to Saint Petersburg, Victor’s life felt like it would finally be some kind of perfect.

Moving back was harder than he expected, though. He’d hired a cleaning service to come and make sure that the signs of months of disuse were gone. It all looked exactly the way it had before he left, as though not a day had gone by, as if nothing had changed, and he fought down the crippling feeling of the past as it threatened to overwhelm him.

“Vitya, this is beautiful. How could you ever leave?” Yuuri asked, his mouth hanging slightly open and his beautiful brown eyes wider than usual. Victor couldn’t help the smile forming on his face, and he couldn’t spoil the wonder on his fiance’s face by telling him of all of the terrible memories this place held. The lonely nights, the aching joints, the false smiles dropped on the welcome mat… they all felt like they were far gone, and he wanted to ignore their ghosts in the hopes that they would stop haunting him

The first days in the apartment were entirely removed from reality. The first morning, waking up next to Yuuri in his king size bed, the one that had always been too big for just him, with Makkachin at their feet felt domestic in a way that Victor had never even dreamed he’d get to experience. The crack in the curtains let in a small sliver of morning sunlight that made the room feel like it was almost glowing, and Yuuri looked ethereal with his hair sticking out in every direction, his face slack and innocent in sleep. Victor couldn’t help but lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, trailing them down his jaw and towards his lips. Yuuri stirred, his arms coming around Victor to pull him closer, burying Victor’s face in the crook of his neck. Victor happily pressed another kiss there, and Yuuri let out a small laugh at the feeling.

“Vitya… It’s too early for this. Why are you awake?”

“You looked too beautiful to resist. So pretty in our apartment.”

“I like that,” Yuuri murmured, gently tilting Victor’s face up to pull him into a kiss.

“You make me so happy, Yuuri. You know that, right?” Victor said, his lips still brushing against Yuuri’s with every word.

“I’m glad I can make you happy. I love you,” Yuuri a yawns, and Victor can’t help the chuckle it pulls from him, “can we go back to sleep? We can be happy at a reasonable hour.”

“We can be happy whenever we want, dorogoy.” Yuuri curled into Victor’s side, and Victor could feel the smile on the love of his life’s his lips, pressed against his chest as Yuuri fell back asleep.

They were so happy those first few days that Victor was afraid that he would never be as happy as he was again. The first few weeks, Yuuri proved him wrong every single day. They woke up with gentle kisses and spent their days training and falling into bed exhausted, making love on days when they still had the energy left.

But Victor was used to living alone, and the onsen was nothing like the apartment. There was no one picking up after them and making their meals and keeping them in check constantly, and Victor didn’t always have the self control to do it himself.

“Victor! You  _ have _ to start picking up your dishes! It isn’t hard, you just put them in the sink when you’re done. If you’re feeling really crazy, then you can even put them in the dishwasher,” Yuuri yelled from the kitchen. Victor had been lying on the floor in the living room playing with Makkachin, who had been enthusiastically tugging at a toy Victor was holding until she heard Yuuri’s raised voice. The dog wandered away towards Yuuri, wanting to soothe the obviously upset man. Victor followed after her, knowing that he couldn’t properly apologize from a room away.

“I’m sorry, dorogoy. I’ll remember next time, I promise,” Victor said, glancing at the now cleared table with a sheepish smile on his face. He reached out for Yuuri, hoping to give him an apology in the form of a kiss, but Yuuri just shook his head and dodged his arms.

“Not right now, Victor. I’m going to… I’m going to call Phichit, maybe go for a walk or something. I’m just… going to grab my coat from the bedroom.” Yuuri walked past Victor, purposefully just far enough away that Victor couldn’t reach him. Makkachin followed after Yuuri, and Victor understood, but he wished that his old friend had stayed with him.

He knew his happiness couldn’t last. He knew he would ruin this; he always ruined everything. Then again, it was something small. Yuuri probably just had a bad day, and they would be fine again before they went to sleep.

Thinking of sleeping made Victor think of the way Yuuri hadn’t called it their bedroom. He felt sick to his stomach, but he wanted to respect Yuuri’s need for space. He decided to sit in the living room, flicking on a dumb show that he knew he wasn’t going to be paying any attention to. Him and Yuuri would be fine; they were always fine. It was just a small fight, and even though it hurt that Yuuri hadn’t let him touch him, it was nothing. Everything would be better in the morning light. He could hear Yuuri’s voice lilting on the phone from the other room, and he was glad that Yuuri had someone to talk to. He decided after a few minutes that a shower was the best course of action, and he walked into the bathroom, turning on the water before he realized he hadn’t gotten clothes to change into.

He walked towards the bedroom,  _ their _ bedroom, slowly, still not wanting to disturb his fiance. He was just approaching the hallway that led to their room when Yuuri walked out and towards the door and hooked Makkachin into her leash, completely oblivious to the fact that Victor wasn’t in the bathroom.

“Victor is… I don’t know, Phichit, it just feels like… like he doesn’t care enough sometimes, and I’m sure it’s just the anxiety, but sometimes I think maybe it was a mistake: Saint Petersburg and… I don’t know, all of this.” Yuuri’s word’s immediately cut through Victor, and anything that had been filling his chest felt like they were all emptying out. Yuuri was gone just like that, the scarf Victor had gotten him wrapped around his neck, a hat pulled over his head, and his slightly too big coat buttoned up to the neck. He was leaving. He was leaving and he regretted ever coming.

The emptiness, it was coming so fast, so quickly, and he couldn’t take it, he couldn’t go through it again, without Yuuri there was no stopping it, and it was coming back, he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t anymore. The door clicked shut, and Victor was left alone. He knew he should still shower, and he did it numbly before dressing all in his own clothes, carefully avoiding the drawers Yuuri had filled up. The emptiness was taking him again. It had always been waiting, all this time he thought it was gone, but he had just learned so well to ignore it that he almost forgot, but it came back. It would always come back. Yuuri wouldn’t though.

Once he was dressed, Victor thought he might stay in the bedroom, but the idea of falling asleep while Yuuri was still out cut into him, stabbing into the space where his chest used to be. What if Yuuri got lost and needed him? He was beginning to pick up on speaking Russian, but reading it was an entirely different thing, and Victor made sure his phone was next to him just in case. He couldn’t leave Yuuri alone. 

He sat on the couch and tried to think of what to say when his love returned. How did he tell him it was okay that he didn’t want him? That it was okay if Yuuri didn’t love him? He felt smaller than he had ever been in his life, his shoulders caving in and his chest was empty, and it felt familiar in the worst way, and he tried to focus, but his thoughts were a jumbled stream of  _ he doesn’t love you, you have to let him go, he isn’t happy, you don’t make him happy anymore _ and he couldn’t quiet it. The emptiness was only producing more and more panicked thoughts. Victor had never understood Yuuri’s anxiety before, but he wondered if this was what a panic attack was.

“Victor?” He couldn’t let Yuuri see him like this. Victor hadn’t even heard the door open, how long had Yuuri been gone? Had he tried to call Victor and he’d missed it? Yuuri couldn’t see him now; he would only want to leave that much more if he saw Victor like this. He was supposed to be perfect, and this was as far from perfect as it got. Victor stood to leave the living room, to go to a place where Yuuri wouldn’t see him, but he found that he couldn’t really get his feet to work and ended up on the ground. He wasn’t sure if he tripped on something. He wasn’t really sure of anything. He found himself on all fours on the ground, and he pulled his arms into his stomach, sitting back onto his knees and covering his face with his hands. Yuuri couldn’t see him; he wouldn’t love him anymore. That is, if he still loved him now.

“Victor! Victor, are you okay?” Yuuri’s footsteps sounded through the apartment as he came closer, still wearing his boots.  _ Victor. He called me Victor. It really is over. _

“I’m sorry, Yuuri. I’m sorry you don’t want to be here, I’m sorry. If you want to leave me you can, I just want you to be happy. I’m so sorry. Please be happy.” Victor didn’t recognize his own voice. He had never spoken before, when the emptiness took him over. He’d always been alone.

“Victor? Vitya, please look at me,” Yuuri begged, and Victor gave in immediately, of course he did. Yuuri was still talking, but Victor couldn’t quite focus on anything right now. His breaths were coming out evenly, but only only because of the immense amount of effort he was putting towards it. Victor wanted to reach out to him, but he knew that he couldn’t. Yuuri didn’t want him anymore. Of course he didn’t want him anymore. Yuuri reached out to Victor and helped him stand, and Victor barely stopped himself from flinching away from the touch.

“I’ll make us some tea and we can talk, okay?” Yuuri asked, and Victor nodded, numb. Victor could hear Yuuri picking his phone up off the floor where he must have dropped it and saying goodbye to Phichit. He was still on the phone with him when he came back, and Victor knew he should be embarrassed that Phichit had heard him like that, but he couldn’t find anything within him to care. Who cared about his  reputation? Who cared what others thought? Yuuri didn’t want him, and that spoke more of him than anything else he could ever do. He found the will to move and belatedly followed Yuuri to the kitchen. The table had two mugs of tea sitting on it already. He thought that he had been quick, but he obviously was wrong. He was always wrong, always wrong.

“Vitya?” Yuuri’s voice took him out of his head, and Victor noticed that Yuuri was sitting at his spot at the table, one of the mugs of tea in front of him. They were still steaming, the sweet smelling vapor rising up into the room. Victor sat slowly, focusing intently on the way the steam was swirling up out of the bright red mug Victor had deemed his favorite as soon as Yuuri bought it for him for his twenty-eighth birthday. They sat in silence for a moment before Victor finally spoke.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say you weren’t happy, Yuuri?”

“Vitya, I  _ am _ happy, please don’t say I’m not.”

“Then why would you… You said you think I don’t care, and you wish you hadn’t come. You wish you hadn’t come with me.”

“No, that’s not what I… You heard me say that?”

“Yes.” Victor knew he wasn’t supposed to, but he still had. He’d heard it and it was too much to bear anymore.

“Are you crying?” Victor hadn’t realized it, but a tear dropped into his mug, making circles in the calm surface of his favorite tea. Yuuri’s mom had sent it to them a few days after their arrival, saying that since Victor drank it every single morning back in Japan he should keep up his routine. He would never find tea as good as this one in Russia, he knew that, and she did too. He didn’t deserve her kindness.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri. I’ve never… If you want to leave, if that’s what will make you happy, then you don’t have to—”

“Vitya, I’m not leaving you, stop saying that I want to! I love you, will you stop doubting me?” Victor’s head snapped up at this, and his chest felt a little less empty.

“Yuuri,” he choked out, finally giving in to the sobs that had been building up in his chest. Yuuri abandoned his seat and walked to where Victor’s sat, pulling him into his arms gently. Victor gripped onto Yuuri’s shirt like a child, wetting it with his tears.

“Vitya, I’m here. I’m right here. I’m sorry.” Yuuri hadn’t been good at comforting him the last time Victor cried in front of him, but it seemed as though he’d learned since then. His fingers ran through Victor’s hair, and eventually Victor’s tears stopped.

“I’m sorry, I, I overreacted, didn’t I?” Victor mumbled, swallowing thickly.

“I shouldn’t have said that, I didn’t know you were there. I thought you were in the shower; I never meant for you to hear,” Yuuri mumbled. Victor pulled the younger man onto his lap, wrapping his arms around his middle and holding him close. He buried his face in Yuuri’s shoulder, still not quite able to face the man he loved.

“Did you mean it?”

“No,” the answer came immediately, leaving no room for doubt, “I was just angry. I know I shouldn’t have gotten so upset over something as small as the dishes. If anyone overreacted, it was me. I’ve just been very stressed with training and this new country where I don’t know the language, and it’s just… It’s been taking it’s toll. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier that I was upset. I don’t regret coming here, Vitya, I’m just trying so hard to adjust for you.” Victor only held him tighter.

“I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t tell me. I just don’t want you to be unhappy here. I want you to be happy with me. You make me so happy, Yuuri.”

“You make me happy too, Vitya. So happy,” he paused, “Now, it’s your turn to talk. There must be something else bothering you too for your reaction to be like that.” Victor knew he had to tell Yuuri. He trusted Yuuri more than anything, and he wanted him to know that Victor trusted him, but he had never told anyone how he felt before. He had never told anyone about the way the medals really felt, that everything was forced, fake, unreal, and finding the words was proving more difficult than he expected.

“Before… before I met you, I wasn’t happy. I was… I smiled a lot, but it wasn’t real. They were… I couldn’t tell anyone. I should’ve been happy, I had everything. But it just… it was empty. I was so empty, Yuuri, and I couldn’t… I didn’t know what to do. I was so alone; I had no one. Everyone left, everyone  _ always _ left and I always let them because I want everyone I love to be happy, even if it isn’t with me. And then I met you, and you made me so happy, and I smiled again. I really smiled again. I felt alive again. I had forgotten what it felt like to be so happy, and I thought I was making you happy too, and I got selfish. I want nothing more than for us to be happy together, and the thought that I… that I was making you unhappy, I can’t, I’m so  _ sorry _ , Yuuri, I’m so sorry. I’m just, I’m so afraid of losing you.” He was holding back the sobs trying to break loose again, and he felt Yuuri’s hand on his jaw, gently tilting his face up. Victor’s eyes had been squeezed shut, but he opened them now at Yuuri’s gentle coaxing. Thumbs swept across his cheeks, gently wiping away the tears Victor wasn’t able to stop in time.

“Vitya, I love you so much. I want to be with you forever, and I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I had no idea that you… I’m sorry, too.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” The words came quick; Victor couldn’t let Yuuri feel guilty about things he had never known.

“I know I didn’t know you, but I… Oh,  _ Vitya _ , I wish you’d never felt that way. I will never make you feel like that again. I’m never leaving you. I don’t care if you never do the dishes again, I’m not leaving you. I promise. You make me happier than you could ever know.”

“I love you, Yuuri. I love you so much, thank you. Thank you.” Victor reached up, and Yuuri responded by pressing his lips against Victor’s.

“I can’t promise to be perfect, but I’ll never leave you, Victor. I promise I’ll never leave you. And I’ll never walk out while we’re fighting again. Why were you sitting on the floor when I came in?”

“I didn’t want you to see me, and I just… I think I tripped. I thought… you would want to leave more if you saw me so… so weak. I’m supposed to be a legend, aren’t I? Aren’t legends supposed to be perfect?” Yuuri kissed him again in lieu of an immediate response.

“You are perfect. You are more than you can ever imagine. I love you. Now, why don’t we go lay down? We have training early.”

“As your coach, I think tomorrow is a rest day. I think it would do you very well to spend the day in bed.” Victor let a teasing hint enter his voice, and Yuuri smiled at him. It looked happy, and Victor felt his heart clench at the sight.

“Hm, and do you think I should spend this day in bed alone, coach?”

“No. You should never be alone,” Victor murmured, still teasing, but with a truth behind his words he hoped Yuuri could feel. The gentle kiss placed on his lips told him he’d hit the mark.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.” Victor let Yuuri hold his hand and lead him to their room, mugs of tea forgotten by both of them on the table. After falling asleep in each other’s arms, Victor woke up in the middle of the night and went to get a glass of water. When he spotted the mugs he rinsed them carefully and placed them in the dishwasher.

He didn’t feel empty anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like that! I'm drowning in work and I needed some angst in my life, so I decided to write some of my own. I have actual work that I have for my creative writing class?? But here I am. Wow.
> 
> I'm thinking of making a part 2 for this that's the fight from Yuuri's perspective, so if you're interested in that definitely mention it.
> 
> If you liked it or didn't leave a comment or send me a message on my tumblr, victuuricorner.tumblr.com!
> 
> Have a nice day everyone :)


End file.
